


Wash Day

by Killmongersmistress (teakturn)



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Best Friends, Caring Uma (Disney), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hair Washing, Hurt Gil (Disney: Descendants), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, No Sex, No Smut, No Underage Sex, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Sweet Gil (Disney: Descendants), Teen Romance, Teenagers, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teakturn/pseuds/Killmongersmistress
Summary: Uma gets some help taking her hair down.





	Wash Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost from my Tumblr blog. 
> 
> The premise came from a prompt I saw on Tumblr, someone wanted a ficlet between Uma and her guys, Harry and Gil. I wrote this 08/27/2017.

Uma was in the Captain's Quarters with express instructions to her crew not to bother her. She fully expected that at any moment someone would barge in any way, especially with Harry away. He’d mentioned something about striking fear into the hearts of their enemies, so she guessed he’d spend a good three hours off the docks.

Gil was with the Gastons and his father, Gaston. His dad was on another hunting trip and Gil often tagged along in a hopeless bid to win his father’s approval. Harry and Uma knew it was fruitless, the only person Gaston truly loved was himself and his twin terrors.

With Harry and Gil both off, she has a rare moment of quiet and solitude. Her mom has yet to notice Uma’s absence from the shoppe, and she has no plans of going in for her shift today. She decides to finally take her hair down instead.

She’s been long overdue for a touch-up. Her regrowth is almost two inches long. Uma scratches at her roots. Yeah, it’s time take down her braids.

She starts by cutting the excess hair on the ends. Aqua, cerulean, and teal scraps of hair fall into the trash sack she procured for just this moment. Uma was careful not to cut her own hair. When she was younger, Ursula would ridicule her choppy cut job. Shaming her in front of everyone in the shoppe. Uma would never forget how it felt to have everyone’s eyes drawn to her hair, thick and uneven, and know they were laughing at her.

The cutting took about thirty minutes because every time she thought she’d gotten them all a random braid will fall into her face or drag across her back. But eventually, all that was left on Uma’s head was brown and blue braids that came up to her shoulders now. All of it mostly her hair.

Though shorter, her braids were still tiny. Too tiny to go at with just her nails, unless she wanted a cramp in the next fifteen minutes. When Uma checked among her hair supplies for the thin tail comb her mom used to use part her hair (back when Ursula still thought it was worth it to make Uma look presentable), she found it missing.

With a few grumbled curses and a sigh, Uma left her quarters and found it in Gil’s room. Just as she’d thought. She knew he borrowed it sometimes to tuck stray blonde curls back into the bandana he wore. Gaston hasn’t exactly been kind about how different Gil was from his brothers, the blonde wavy curls on his head didn’t help at all.

Uma and Harry had told Gil he didn’t have to cover his hair up with them, but old habits die hard.

Uma had told him time and time again that if he borrowed her stuff he had to bring it back, and time and time again Gil promised to remember next time. This was probably her hundredth time finding her comb in his room.

Comb in hand, Uma raced back to her quarters. She wanted to get this takedown part over with so she could wash her hair before nightfall. Nothing sucked more than cold bath water, except maybe cold bath water at night.

When she entered her room, she expected it to be empty and neatly drew her sword when she saw the long muscular figure on her bed.

“Gil what did I tell you about coming into my room when I’m not here.” Uma used the tip of her sword to press at one of Gil’s boots.

He muffled something, his face was stuck deep in her pillows.

“Use your words, Gil.” Uma taunts. There’s no heat behind it, and she’s about to nudge his foot again when he suddenly raises his head.

He turns to face her and she sees he’s crying. Or at least he had been. There are no tears that Uma can see, but his face is still red and his eyes are like storms.

“Gaston left me behind on the hunting trip.” He says it like it doesn’t bother him like it just makes sense for him to be left out. It makes something in Uma’s stomach churn, and she feels herself clenching her fingers in anger.

“ You don’t need to go on that stupid hunting trip anyway Gil. If they don’t want you there then you don’t want to be there either.”

“But I did want to go. Dad hasn’t taken me hunting in so long. I’ve gotten so much better at-”

“Well, you couldn’t go anyway because I needed you here.” Uma didn’t much care for hunting. Or any of the other sports and physical activities Gaston liked to torture his children with. But she cared about Gil and just hearing how disappointed he sounded at being left behind made her want to fix it.

Gil looked up at Uma from her bed with eyes the color of the sky in Auradon. His face lit up and he scooted to the edge of the bed.

“You need me?” He sounded like he was in awe.

Uma couldn’t keep the indulgent smile off her face long enough to say, “Of course! You’re my left hand man! My second mate! Of course, I need you.”

Uma handed Gil the thin comb and taught him how to use the pointed tip to separate the tight braids. She made sure he knew to be gentle before she sat on the floor in front of her bed between his legs. Uma leaned her head against his knee, watching as he took down one braid slowly but surely. It took him five minutes to take it out, the longest she’d ever seen anyone work on one braid, but he was gentle. Uma didn’t even feel when he finally slipped the braid hair free from her own.

Once satisfied he could be trusted to take down her hair without her supervision, she started working on the other side of her head. Taking down three braids for Gils every one. They built up a rhythm at some point. Gil would hand Uma the comb once he’d released enough hair to finish the rest of the braid off with his fingers and Uma would use the comb to until Gil finally moved on to another braid. They synchronized with the flap of the waves against the bottom of the ship.

Slap! Pass comb. Slap! Move on to next braid. Slap! Pass comb.

By the time Harry returned from releasing terror on the crooked streets of the Isle, Uma was running her hand through her now free hair. She pulled at strands of hair and scratched in places she hadn’t been able to reach in almost a month.

Her head was relaxed back on Gil’s thigh, and he ran strong fingers through her scalp. Massaging her grimy roots and pulling on an odd curl or two. Uma thought it was gross, but she figured she could wash it in a bit. She wanted to enjoy her scalp massage.

He looked at the two of them, comfortable and relaxed in a way they could only be in Uma’s room, behind closed doors, without him. Harry pouted and threw his hook onto the bed.

Uma smiled lazily, “Feeling left out, puppy?”

Harry huffed, “If you’d have let me help we’d have been done hours ago.”

“Do you still want to help?” Uma yawned. Above her, Gil’s massaging turned into gentle scratching against her scalp. Uma couldn’t say she minded it honestly.

“I’m at your service, Captain.” Harry winked and bowed so they were eye level. Uma looked into his eyes, blue like freshwater streams, lined thickly with eye paint. Harry thought it made him look fiercer, madder than he really was. Uma thought it made him look like a raccoon. A cute, ferocious raccoon.

“Run us a bath. This hair isn’t gonna wash itself and Gil’s starting to smell a little less than fresh.” Uma knocked her head against Gil’s thigh when he made a noise of protest.

Harry looked between Gil and Uma with a sly smile spreading across his face, “Gil’s got to do a wash-up, who’s gonna wash that lovely hair of yours, my Captain.” As he spoke, Harry slipped his hand right to the roots of her hair. He tugged on the coiled strands and rubbed his warm callused palm against her scalp. Harry’s grip and warmth combined with Gil’s gentle massaging has Uma feeling like liquid.

“Run the bath Harry, before the water gets too cold.”

Gil pumped his fist and hooted, “Bath time!”

Harry and Uma rolled their eyes, the fact that they were grinning meant nothing at all.


End file.
